


he wasn't supposed to suffer so.

by Our_Hearts_Are_Compatible



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, no beta reader we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:15:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22620847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Our_Hearts_Are_Compatible/pseuds/Our_Hearts_Are_Compatible
Summary: Will and Joe find themselves together underneath one of Mrs. Blake's cherry trees.  There's so much they both want to say, but they don't quite know how to go about saying it.
Relationships: Joseph Blake & William Schofield, Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54





	he wasn't supposed to suffer so.

William had never intended to grow attached to Tom. To be his friend, or anything more. Lance Corporal Blake wasn’t meant to be in his life and he was sure of it.

William Schofield wasn’t supposed to suffer so.

But he found himself sitting across from the Lieutenant beside one of his mother’s cherry trees, listening to him wax poetic about how strong and brave his little brother had been. There was no reminder needed: he remembered every wonderful word Tom had ever said to him from the first bright and _almost cheery_ ‘hello’ to his final words…

  
  
“It’ll be dark by then…” _I promised you it wouldn’t bother me, Tom. It_ ** _didn’t_**. His thoughts were interrupted when Joseph waved a hand before his face, a look of concern etched into his own. Schofield shook his head and drew up his lips in a tight smile. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

“Oh, then- of course you didn’t hear me. I asked what you said, Will,” was Joseph’s response and Will felt his chest tighten. Of course he’d muttered it aloud. He couldn’t tell him about Thomas’ last words. Those were _his_ , to keep and cherish quietly. His to remember when everything else felt too easy to forget. So he instead shrugged it off. As he tended to do with most things. He certainly wasn’t ready to talk about it. They sat quietly then, Joseph silently understanding that whatever it was, William wasn’t quite ready yet. It was May, Tom had died in April. A month that felt like a year never ending- it granted him a nice new ribbon, a promotion in rank to Corporal...but that didn’t matter.

It should have been Blake.

Will picked at the grass beside them, urging his heart to stop beating so fast. There was no reason to be scared or nervous here. The Lieutenant was his friend. They both loved Tom. All of the cherry blossoms had flowered and fallen, their petals shriveled in the dirt beneath them but the trees weren’t finished yet- slowly fruiting cherries grew where the beautiful petals once were. “Joseph...do you ever wonder when the war will end? When will we get to ‘go home’, and not think about when we have to go back? I hate doing this, and I only came because-” his voice broke in his throat and he furrowed his brow. “Because...damn,” he brought a hand up to rub his eyes; they stung with unshed tears and he tried to wish them away. He didn’t want to talk about why he came.

  
  
Joseph scooted closer to William and rested a slightly larger hand atop his, still fiddling with the grass. “You’re okay. Mum and I know why you’re here. That’s enough,” he said, soothing the younger man, and Will was thankful for it. The unspoken words of ‘you loved him’ could stay that way until he was ready to say them out loud on his own.

They sat holding hands in the silence until Will needed to move, his body too full of anxious energy to stay put. It all felt wrong, anyway. “I- I’m sorry. This feels wrong, you two...you don’t have the same hands.”

He slipped his hand away and stretched out completely, laying back against the tree they sat under. Joe uttered a quiet ‘oh’ and coughed almost awkwardly. It shouldn’t have mattered to him anyway. “Thank you, Will. You might not want to hear that right now, but thank you. You’ve done more for us than we could have ever hoped for.”

Joe leaned against the cherry tree with him and for the first time in weeks, William Schofield cried.

  
It was not sorrowful, as one might expect but rather calm liberation: perhaps he hadn’t done the right thing by getting the Boche water, but he had done right by being there for Tom’s family. Everything stayed awfully quiet, then. For a good long time. The sun was starting to set suddenly, Myrtle was barking up a storm at a neighbor passing by, and birds fluttered in the air but Will and Joe did not speak again.

A voice pierced the silence then, strong and true. It would have frightened the pair, had they not recognized it. “Boys, you’d _best_ be coming in for supper,” called out a woman from up at the house, just peeking out the back door; Mrs. Blake as he’d found out a few days prior. She was a kind woman. Tom most definitely had her eyes. Joseph called up a 'yes mum' or something of the sort in response and hopped up, gently offering his hand to Will.

  
He refused it and stood on his own. Not just because their hand’s didn’t fit together, though he was adamant that they didn’t. It was mostly because William wanted to prove he was able to be strong without his best friend by his side. Needed to prove that no one else had to lift him up.

That was Tom’s job, not Joe’s. But he would take the comforting hand the older Blake rested upon his shoulder in the meantime.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at william-schofield on tumblr!! 
> 
> <3


End file.
